


the sickness in my heart

by 2wisheslikeafool



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Family Dinners, Family Fluff, Femslash, Fluff and Smut, M/M, i gave myself a cavity writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 07:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1257754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2wisheslikeafool/pseuds/2wisheslikeafool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa and her sweet family host a small family get together. </p><p>Modern AU with Cat and Ned's unexpected deaths leaving the older Stark siblings to care for the younger ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sickness in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Given the nature of this AU, I've taken some aging liberties. Sansa, Jon, and Robb are all aged up significantly while Arya, Bran, and Rickon have all been aged down significantly.

Moving to the suburbs was the best thing to happen to them, all three of them. Jon had balked at first, grumbling about the culture of the city and all the missed time together, but he helped them pack the moving truck all the same.

Margaery had found the house. She spent weeks online. When Sansa got home from work, she would find Marg, halted in the kitchen staring at listing on her phone, or cross legged on the couch, frowning at the for-sale section of the newspapers. Their conversations were spotted with real estate questions; did she _need_ to have a kitchen with an island, or was that just a preference? How big did Arya want the backyard to be? How many bedrooms did they want? How many bedrooms did they _need_? It drove Sansa mad, the specifics and breakdowns of it all, but Marg never wearied, bless her heart.

The house they got was perfect, just as it should’ve been for all of Margaery’s fussing. They drove out there once on Sansa’s lunch break, past the concrete and into green hills that reminded Sansa of her childhood. Margaery pulled into a cul-de-sac and stopped in front of the second loveliest thing Sansa had ever seen (Marg was the first, naturally). The house was surrounded by rose bushes, thick enough to look wild and healthy but clearly manicured. It was built from thick red bricks, and even had an honest-to-god white picket fence.

“What do you think, San?” Margaery had asked, smiling.

“It couldn’t be more perfect,” Sansa breathed.

That Saturday, they brought Arya to see the house. Sansa watched the young girl’s face carefully; the outside didn’t seem to impress Arya much, but when she deemed her potential new bedroom big enough for fencing practice, Sansa was filled with warmth. They closed the following week.

It was two months later now, a thick summer evening. Jon was in town on a weekend for the first time in ages, and Margaery insisted he and Samwell come see the house, not to mention Arya. Sansa hadn’t wanted to push him, but Margaery didn’t mind demanding they come, and bring the boys, which led to Sansa flitting about the kitchen, cooking dinner for seven.

“Do you need any help?” Margaery asked her. Sansa’s auburn hair was still matted from sleep and sticking to the nape of her neck. She turned to her wife with a comically large mixing bowl tucked in the bend of her arm like a child. She had a smudge of flower across her cheek and beads of sweat collecting on her brow. Margaery was painfully compelled to kiss her, but the stress in the woman’s eyes kept her at bay.

“Could you open some windows? It’s hotter in here than it is outside, I swear.”

Margery obliged, padding into the living room. Arya was sitting on the floor cross legged, playing a video game with such intensity that her thick pink tongue stuck through her lips.

“Guess how many zombies I’ve killed this morning,” said Arya, eyes glued to the screen.

“Four?” offered Margaery.

“Nine hundred and twenty nine.”

“Nice!”

The window made a crackling noise as Margaery slid it up. She opened three more before returning to the kitchen.

“How close are you to being finished?” Margaery asked, keeping her distance from the oven. Sansa was masterful in the kitchen, and she knew breaking her stride might end in a meltdown.

“I’m almost done, despite how it looks. The pot de crème is in the fridge, the casserole is in the oven, and the chicken is marinating. I just need to put it on a little while before the guests arrive and everything should be okay.” She used the corner of her apron to wipe the sweat from her brow. It was a pink, ruffled monstrosity that Sansa had all but begged for a few Valentine’s Days ago, but Margaery never said an ill word about the thing. She loved the way it clashed with her hair and made her look like some sort of Norman Rockwell housewife.

“Well, that’s good news because Sam just texted me. They’re thirty minutes away.”

Sansa rubbed her temples. “Jon is the chronically late brother. This isn’t right. How did that happen?”

Margaery shrugged. “He said Jon was so excited to see us that he got up before noon.”

Sansa groaned and untied her apron. “I’m going to hop in the shower. Will you make sure Arya’s room is clean?”

“Of course.” She kissed Sansa on the cheek.

Margaery opened the door to Arya’s bedroom. It was sparsely furnished but overly stocked with toys and books, a true sign of her spoiling. Margaery had painted what was quite possibly her favorite mural ever in Arya’s room. The longest wall had a scene of the forest at night, all huge trees and foliage save for a sandy wolf, head tiled back in a howl. Behind the overhead light, she had painted a round yellow moon, and maybe hundreds of stars all around it. Arya had jumped for joy when she came home from school to find it. Sansa had cried.

Margaery gathered the scattered Nerf swords and leaned them against her bookcase. She made Arya’s bed and arranged the pillows. She even attempted to straighten the mound of papers on her desk. She stepped into the doorway and surveyed the room. It wasn’t quite up to Sansa’s standards, but it would do for the family.

Margaery went back to the living room to find a paused game and a lack of Arya. She paced through the house, checking her office and back in Arya’s room. She opened the door to her bedroom and found Arya sitting at Sansa’s vanity, pulling a brush through her hair and wincing. She turned as she heard the door open.

“Do you need a hand, sweetling?”

Arya squinched up her face and nodded.

Margaery stood behind the young girl and gently extracted the brush from the tangle of hair. Sansa’s shower was still running, the rush of the water in the background.

“It’s important to start and the ends and work your way up.”

“I know. Sansa always tells me that. But I didn’t think it mattered since my hair is so short.”

Margaery shook her head.

“Work your way up. Always. See? Doesn’t that hurt less?” Arya nodded, defeated.

Margaery watched their reflections in the huge mirror and couldn’t help but smile.

“Were you trying to look nice for Jon?” Margaery teased.

“Well, no. You guys were getting all fancy and ready, and I just thought…”

“I know just the thing.”

Margaery crouched down to Arya’s height and swiveled the stool around. She grabbed a bottle from the surface.

“Close your eyes.”

Arya’s eyes widened. “No way! You’re not going to make me look all made up like you, are you? Won’t that make my face itchy?”

Margaery put a hand on her hip. “Arya Stark. I know you well enough to know not to give you a full makeover. This will just be a little something special. You won’t even remember it’s there. I promise.”

Arya gave her a hard stare before reluctantly closing her eyes.

“No, not like that. Close them gently. Just barely. And raise your eyebrows.”

Margaery opened the small container. After a few small flicks of her wrist, she took a step back.

“Is that it?” Arya sounded surprised.

“That’s it. Take a look.”

They both looked in the mirror. She had given her the smallest winged eyeliner in a deep black. Arya turned her head from side to side, grinning.

“This looks awesome, Marg.”

“I told you so.” She laughed. “Now go get dressed to I can do mine.”

Arya stood gleefully and hurried off.

***

When the doorbell rang, Sansa was still nowhere to be seen. Margaery opened the door to find Jon first, who pulled her into a tight squeeze.

“You’ve really made it, haven’t you? My god this place is beautiful.” Jon patted her on the shoulder and stepped inside.

Arya had come running into the entryway. She practically jumped onto Jon, and he grunted upon impact.

“You get taller every time I see you, underfoot. Someday soon you’ll be overfoot!”

She pulled away. “Hi Jon. I’ve missed you.”

“What do you have on your face? Is that eyeliner?”

Arya grinned sheepishly. Jon looked back at Margaery who smiled smugly.

“Are these ladies turning you into a girly girl?”

“No way!” cried Arya, pulling Jon by the hand.

Bran arrived at the door next.

“Hi Miss Margaery. Your house is lovely.” The little boy looked up at her, hair falling into his huge eyes. Margaery bent down to hug him.

“Thank you Mister Brandon! My goodness, you’ve gotten so big, look at you!”

“Bran! Do you want to play? I have a spare controller. You’ll like this game, there’s no killing in it. You just roll stuff up into a ball.”

“Yeah,” Bran cried, scurrying inside.

Samwell was last, with the baby strapped to his chest in a harness. He kissed her cheeks in lieu of a hug.

“Those whiskers look so good on you, Sam. I love them.”

“Really? You think? I wasn’t so sure about them but Jon likes them, too.” Sam reddened a little.

“They’re marvelous Sam, really.” Margaery said. “And look at little Sammy! He’s shot up too, my gods.” She cooed.

“He’ll be one in just a few weeks. Time really flies, doesn’t it?” Sam slipped off his shoes.

“Where are my manners? Come in, sit down. Would you like a drink? Some wine? I think we have some cider as well, and some mead.”

“Mead would be lovely, thank you,” Jon murmured.

Margaery padded into the kitchen and relished the sound of wine glasses clinking as she pulled them from the cabinet.

“So how is life on the road? Do you miss being home?”

Jon made a noncommittal sound. “There are ups and downs. It’s easy with the kids being so young, but we know we can’t keep it up forever. I did get to see Robb last week, though, which was a real treat.”

“You got to see Robb?” called a voice from deeper within the house. A door clicked and Sansa emerged, hair in perfectly done waves, wearing a darling grey dress. “How is our absent brother?”

Jon rose and hugged Sansa tight. Margaery thought he may have lifted her off the ground a little, but she couldn’t be sure.

“He’s marvelous. Talisa has that gig at the Mayo Clinic and he’s teaching. Rickon’s going to start pre-school in the fall.”

“No! He is?” Margaery retorted.

Jon nodded sagely.

“I miss him so much. I wish they could live closer.” Sansa sighed.

“Oh, when we were there, Robb told me he’s having his student’s read one of your books, Marg,” Sam spoke up.

“Ah, well, they’re not mine. I don’t write, just illustrate. But which one was it?” she asked.

“Eh, Rough and Tumble Tuesday? I think that’s the one.”

Margaery grinned broadly. “I love that one. It was inspired by a particularly rough swordfighting session with someone over here.” Her eyebrows shot up and Arya giggled.

“Oh, speaking of swordfights. Do you want to see my new swords? Maybe we can have a duel before dinner.”

“Of course I want to see them,” said Bran.

Jon grinned. “I’d love to.” He stood and followed his young sister toward her room.

A warm quiet fell over them, broken only by the soft gurgling sounds coming from Samwell Jr.

“Do you like it out here, then?” Samwell asked.

Margaery’s answer was immediate. “I love it. Fresh air, great schools, kind people. There isn’t much more I could ask for.”

Sansa nodded, her voice soft. “I’m just glad Arya likes it. The kids,” she paused, swallowing hard. “They’ve been through so much. I just want to give them everything. Arya really hasn’t been very happy since Mom and Dad died, but I see her smiling more and more here.”

Margaery reached her hand out and laced her fingers through Sansa’s.

Samwell nodded. “Robb was saying the same thing when we saw him. Rickon’s so young, he doesn’t really remember how it was before. Bran too, for the most part anyway. But Arya’s old enough to really miss them.”

Sansa nodded with a sniffle.

“But the three of you are so well suited. It’s a match made in heaven. This place is beautiful, Sansa, really. It’s like out of a magazine. You two have got the most stability in your lives and Arya really needs that right now.”

Margaery rested her head against Sansa’s shoulder. “We do pretty well for ourselves, I’d like to think. You’ve got your house full of darling boys, and we’ve got our house full of rowdy girls. It just fits.”

Sansa and Samwell both chuckled.

“Sansa?” Arya called from her room.

“Yes?”

“Me and Bran are hungry,” Arya whined.

“Bran and I,” Margaery corrected. She could almost hear Arya rolling her eyes from the living room, and she definitely heard Bran titter.

“That’s my cue,” Sansa said, standing.

***

The seven of them fit snugly around the dining room table. They didn’t have a high chair, so Sam kept the baby in his harness, feeding him vegetables periodically throughout the night.

“So Arya, do you like your new school?” Jon asked.

“Yeah it’s good,” Arya said with her mouth half full of food. “My teacher, Mrs. Mormont, is so cool. We do all kinds of projects. I’m working on the plans for an aquarium right now. There’s gonna be all kinds of fish.”

“I went to the aquarium in Seattle,” Bran chirped. “I got to touch a real shark.”

“No way!” Arya breathed.

Bran nodded, pleased with himself.

“How is work for you, Sansa?” Sam asked. “Margaery told me earlier about all the deals she’s about to sign, but what’s going on with you?”

“Oh, nothing too much. Same old office politics. My job is the least interesting here.”

“What Sansa means to say is that she was promoted to head of sales last week, and is representing her company at a conference next month,” Margaery corrected.

Sansa blushed into her wine glass.

“That’s so great, why didn’t you tell us before?” said Samwell.

“I just didn’t want to brag or anything. You know.” She took another sip of wine. “How is life on the road for you two?

“Better now than ever, actually,” said Jon. “The break was good for us. The boys have calmed down some. I’m still the calmest member besides the security crew, but I’ve always kept them in line. We’ll be working on a new album a few weeks from now.”

Margaery’s eyes widened. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear it! I can’t believe how great Night’s Watch sounds now. Better than ever, if you ask me.”

Jon smiled down at his plate, bashful.

“I didn’t believe him when he told me life on the road isn’t very fun. But he was right. It’s a lot of sitting around on busses, which is fine by me. It helps me get more lessons in for Bran,” Samwell remarked.

“Satin is teaching me how to play guitar,” Bran said to Arya.

“Nuh-uh,” cried Arya, her face melting into awe.

“Satin taught you how to hold a guitar. There’s a big difference,” Jon said.

Sansa burst into laughter. Bran pouted.

***

The goodbyes were drawn out and sorrowful. The three girls walked the boys to their car, each laying down promises of meeting again soon.

While Jon was busy hugging Arya, Sam edged closer to Sansa. “I think Jon really likes it out here. I have a feeling he’s ready to get away from the bustle.” He raised his eyebrows, smiling. Sansa couldn’t help but giggle.

“I’ll send you some listings in the area,” she whispered conspiratorially.

Every cheek was kissed, and the baby even waved goodbye from his car seat as they drove off. Sansa slid her hand into Margaery’s as they walked back to the house. The silence inside was palpable, and a heavy space hung over where family had just been.

Arya yawned hard and sent herself to bed. Margaery let out a sigh of relief and started in on the night’s dishes.

“Let me help,” Sansa insisted, edging toward the sink.

“You cooked, I’ll clean. That’s the rules.”

Sansa was in the middle of brushing her teeth when Margaery shuffled into the bathroom. Her sweet face was sleepy but triumphant. She gave her a tired smile.

“You were a great hostess tonight,” Margaery murmured.

Sansa spat her toothpaste into the sink. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Margaery snaked her hands across Sansa’s waist and pulled her close. Sansa rested her head on Margaery’s chest. They hung like that for a while before Sansa lifted her head.

“I’m so happy I have you,” she whispered.

“I’m happy you have me, too,” Margaery whispered back. She kissed her softly, letting their lips brush softly against each other. Sansa’s mouth tasted like mint, heat, and her indescribable essence. Margaery had never been able to place it, but she always wanted more. Sansa rested her head against Margaery’s chest once again, soft breath warm on her skin.

“Let’s go to bed,” Sansa whispered.

“Gladly.”

Margaery watched Sansa get into bed. She took note of how her satin pajama shorts rode up to reveal the curve of her ass. She took the image in before crawling up the length of her body. Sansa smiled, almost giggling as she saw her approach. Margaery planted a soft kiss on Sansa’s lips, and then another. She worked her way down her jawline until she reached the space between her neck and shoulders. She left thick kisses there, nipping at her gently.

“I feel like you’re a hunter and I’m your prey,” Sansa breathed.

Margaery pulled her head back up, wearing a devilish grin.

“Good.”

Margaery began working her way down now. Her hands worked Sansa’s thin top up, exposing her petite pink nipples. She ran her tongue in circles around them, feeling them harden in her mouth. Sansa was always quiet, her moans barely louder than whispers, but Margaery knew her enough to know her cues. Her hips squirmed beneath her. Margaery continued her march southward, hooking a finger into the waistband of Sansa’s pajamas and pulling them to her ankles in one fluid motion. She planted gentle kisses down her stomach and toward her hips. She felt her stiffen underneath, ready for contact. Margaery smiled to herself and grazed her teeth along the pale porcelain thighs before her, relishing the way their softness gave to her bite. She would’ve gone on longer, but she heard Sansa whimper, and couldn’t bear the thought of making her wait any longer. She licked down the length of Sansa’s slit and pressed a kiss onto her before working her tongue harder. She moved in rapid motions, never keeping the friction in just one place. She placed a hand against Sansa’s navel, feeling the bucking of her hips and the unsteady breathing from her chest. Sansa made love with her whole body, almost like a dance. Margaery’s tongue, in its own dance, flicked across her clit. She could feel her body tensing and bracing underneath her. Sansa’s hand grasped hold of Margaery’s tightly as she came. Every ounce of tension seemed to explode within her and melt away with her orgasm. She didn’t move until Sansa’s grip on her hand loosened.

Margaery’s ascent in the bed was much less dramatic than her descent. She simply lunged and flopped herself down onto her side. She saw Sansa’s face, blushing and dewy in the afterglow. Sansa edged closer and kissed her gently.

“I love you,” Sansa whispered, rolling over again to take her position as the little spoon. Margaery laid her arm across her waist.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at fluff so I hope it was as cavity inducing for you as it was for me. I wrote this on Valentine's Day to feel better about my hilariously dismal love life, and it actually worked! Hope you liked t.


End file.
